


Arrangement

by DarkShadeless



Series: Overseer Sar [15]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Humor, Slice of Life, my terrible sense of, or what passes for that in the Star Wars universe, the life and times of non-main characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 02:59:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14865321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Master Za’uir has the uncomfortable feeling he’s being watched.





	Arrangement

 

 

It starts some time after the influx of Imperials trickles in. They bring a whole host of new and old problems with them.

Not unexpected. The early days of the Alliance were characterised by much the same, only between individuals who had come together out of their own free will, leaving behind their old bonds, knowing and accepting whom they would be fighting alongside.

Their new reinforcements are under orders and if the Empire hasn’t had a change of heart while Za’uir wasn’t looking their opinions on their posting matter only tangentially.

They will serve, because if they don’t they’ll find themselves out of a need to do so.

It’s… awkward.

Especially in the Force Enclave, where Sith who have had no cause to consider cooperation in any shape or form, come down in the middle of the most diverse gaggle of sensitives Za’uir has encountered in his long life.

But neither the Alliance nor himself have gotten where they are now by giving up at the first sign of trouble. So he digs in and does his best in the name of peaceful coexistence. There is no ill under the sun open discourse cannot cure.

The situation stabilises surprisingly well. Of course there are bushfires every now and again, especially since new faces arrive ever so often.

And yet…

There was a time where Za’uir, for all his adamant belief in the ability of beings everywhere to live alongside, had doubted the Sith capable of such. Perhaps they are, as a whole. He cannot say. Individually? It depends.

Those are words, he has found, that are often central to interpersonal relationships. He should have known they would apply here too. As much fresh ground for hope as that opens up it’s also… difficult. Working together so closely throws up questions anew he had put aside long ago.

Why does an individual as sensible as Lord Hargrev serve the Empire in the first place? How does instructor Sar care so much and so little about his fellow beings at the same time? What can he do to help the Jedi working with certain extreme characters, who are honestly trying to _help_ , but still anathema to harmonious collaboration?

Rarely has he worked as hard and still it is one of the most rewarding things he has done. To see their people come together, seeking compromise (A small part of him adds ‘so they can kick the Zakuulans asses.’ Za’uir elects to ignore it.) is incredible.

 

But the situation does come with a few unforeseen… challenges. (Problems is such a _negative_ word.)

Yes, it starts soon after their Commander brings the Empire into the fold.

At first, it’s small things. The ghost of a presence at his back when he’s alone. A trinket that’s not quite where he could have sworn he left it.

Increasingly, Master Za’uir has the uncomfortable feeling he’s being watched. The trouble? There’s no one there.

He’s been a Jedi too long not to listen to his intuition. Whatever it is, it’s either very real or grounded in a misleading influence and a headache no matter which it turns out to be.

But he can’t seem to pinpoint it.

It’s almost as if the presence is… playing with him. It flares just long enough for him to try and catch it, then it will be gone again. For days, at first. Long enough to start doubting he felt it at all.

That’s the trap Za’uir falls into. He is so busy and surely that was a young one practicing in the hall, or a new arrival… but it grows more active. When he can’t go a day without spotting it he has well caught on.

He suspects a prank, to start with.

Master Za knows not everyone appreciates his devotion to helping people reach their full potential in positive interaction. And then there are those of… excitable humor. It might be just that.

He has to admit, though, that it’s starting to wear on him. When the flares grow so close he can’t go hours without one and he still hasn’t managed to catch the culprit in the act, Za’uir admits defeat.

“So, you see, I’d rather not be a bother but if you could have a short look I’d be much obliged.”

Rolanda Zayne, guard on duty, wavers under his gentle smile. “Sure. Why not, Master Jedi. I mean it’s your own office. This morning, before breakfast?”

“Thereabouts, yes.”

She cues up the vid feed and scrolls through the time stamps.

Their system is rather efficient. It should not take long.

That’s his first clue. Zayne scrolls and pushes buttons and frowns. Slowly the well-worn slack of a soldier used to long hours of sitting around waiting for an emergency to happen melts away to concentration.

Finally, she gives her console a good kick. It doesn’t seem to help.

“I’m really sorry Master Jedi. Looks like the cameras went on the frizz. This shouldn’t happen, I’ll have a maintenance team down right away.”

And, quite possibly, an intelligence officer by how uneasy she looks.

Master Za’uir thanks her and tuts about technology. Once he’s out the door, though, his easy-going serenity starts to fray. A troublesome discovery indeed.

 

 

It doesn’t end there. The maintenance crew comes in, they poke around and leave again. The very polite, very non-descript young man following them around returns. He brings company.

Soon Master Za finds himself in an interrogation room, detailing his troubles to someone who should have better things to do than investigate a prank. Ergo, this, whatever it is, probably isn’t one. “And that’s all instances you can remember?” The once-imperial officer checks his list. He has been nothing but courteous if a bit perturbed by the subject matter. “Strange sounds, moved objects of little to no security clearance requirement, a… presence. Repeated, localized failure of surveillance equipment for no apparent reason that can be verified.”

Agent Owen slowly puts his data pad down. “Master Za’uir, if I may be frank?”

“Of course, of course.”

“Have you considered getting an exorcism?”

 

 

An _exorcism_.

It should be ludicrous. It is.

Only… it really isn’t.

Ghosts are very real, in some corners of the galaxy. Especially corners that concern themselves with the Dark Side of the Force.

Master Za has to take a short meditation break to digest that possibility.

Do they even have someone capable of dealing with such on base?

 

 

They have. They have _several_ experts in the field. He might admit to being a little worried by that.

Master Za is asked a range of increasingly mind-boggling questions, up to and including whether he would like to communicate, engage with, bargain, trap, entangle or do other things with his haunt that have no translation to Basic.

Apparently the clocks run differently in the Empire, even the ones that should be _standing still_.

After some dithering he decides on perky Lord Itsaya, who is more bubbly than one would expect of a Sith and worryingly enthusiastic about her chance to get her hands on ‘something interesting, finally’. He gives her all the time she wants and goes for a nice, long nature hike.

When Master Za returns his energetic exorcist is being fussed over by medical, staring vacantly at nothing in particular with a look of absent adoration on her face.

He’s not sure what sets his fur to bristling more, that or the fact that she lights up and zeroes in on him when he approaches her. “Oh, you are so _lucky_. So lucky, Master Za. She _likes_ you.”

The med team is so happy to get _some_ reaction out of her, even if it is breathless gushing over an unnamed, supernatural, _undead_ entity, that he ends up nodding faintly and patting her hand until they’re done asking her questions she doesn’t pay attention to.

Za’uir has to admit, if only to himself, that this whole matter is starting to be beyond unsettling.

 

 

After Lord Itsaya’s misstep the remaining Inquisitors willing and capable of facing a spirit and coming out the other end with results instead of ready to join the ranks of the aforementioned, split into two groups. The ones that are offended by her failure or similarly excited as their dear, now a little airheaded, colleague and the ones who refuse to touch Za’uir’s office with a ten-foot lightstaff. Or _him_.

Not once in his life was Master Za the person to send others fleeing with his presence. He doesn’t care for the experience very much.

The brave and the bold continue to rake his phantom with blaster-fire with varying success. Some end up like Itsaya. That’s to say not _hurt_ precisely. More in a state of only slowly fading rapture.

Finally, Chief Inquisitor Melisandre has had enough of losing his people to what he calls “a damned psychedelic trip, are you lot serious? We have work to do!”

He stomps into the office and doesn’t come out for a half-day.

When he _does_ he has neither transcended mortal understanding nor is he fuming any longer. The Sith gives Master Za a long look before he pinches the bridge of his own nose in aggravation. “Alright. You’re not going to get rid of her until she decides to leave. You might as well get used to it. Be polite. Burn incense every once in a while. A lady likes that kind of thing.”

And that’s about how Master Za’uir realized he had a… roommate.

 

 

It’s not so bad. They’ve come to a sort of agreement. He thinks. He hasn’t lost any of his more important notes since he started using the Raydonian myrrh. Not even the one data pad he could have sworn he dropped into the trash compactor on accident.

He’ll count that as a win.

 

 


End file.
